


trial de novo

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Detective Tahmoh Penikett, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Hate Sex, Lawyer Jensen Ackles, M/M, Top Tahmoh Penikett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: trial de novo|Latin| trial anewA completely new trial of a matter previously judged.When he hears the District Attorney is dropping yet another case before going to trial, Tahmoh finds himself fighting between continuing to hate the man and putting all that anger to good use.





	trial de novo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlfromcarolina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/gifts).



> For my DARLING KELS on her birthday!!! I was going to just slap together some quickie Jensen/Tahmoh porn then thought about how you've jumped back into Law & Order: SVU and are into a DA/Detective ship, so I decided to run with that for a lil bit ... Hope you have a day as fabulous as you are. LOVE YOU BABE <333

It’s always Ackles’s fault. When cases fail to see the inside of a courtroom, it’s because of that asshole. 

Just like tonight when he says, “We’re dropping the case.”

Tahmoh blinks as anger swells up hot and quick in his gut. He glares at Ackles then takes in the neat organization of picture frames, knick-knacks, and files on the District Attorney’s desk. He wants to throw that dumb blue glass globe at the guy’s face. 

At the top of the pile of folders is the Winters file, paperwork Tahmoh spent the greater part of the last year pulling together to lead them to this moment - when Ackles determines they’re letting a dirtbag sexual predator go free. Tahmoh has had enough of facing the stoic, buttoned-up DA who’s constantly rearing his stubborn head no matter how hard the squad works to get bad guys off the streets.

“We don’t have enough for a jury,” Ackles clarifies.

Tahmoh seethes. “Like hell you don’t. There are hundreds of emails. His entire search history is in that file. He was following his victims for months.”

With a shrug, he’s calm when he says, “And we don’t have any victims to put on the stand.”

“Those girls want him behind bars. Winters deserves to go away for a very long time.” 

“I don’t disagree.”

Tahmoh crosses his arms and challenges, “So, what? You too afraid to do your job?”

Ackles rolls his eyes with a sigh and sits in his leather chair, rocking back. He aims a heated look up at Tahmoh, even when he’s looking all too comfortable to sit behind his mahogany desk without a care in the world for giving up on yet another case. “Maybe if you’d done _your_ job, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

Tahmoh’s anger burns brighter as he steps up to the desk, points a firm finger at the wood, and grits out, “Winters assaulted seven girls. _Girls_ , one as young as eleven. He should be locked away for a very, very long time, and yet here you are! Sitting in your office and letting him walk!”

Ackles’ own anger comes to the surface with a fiery look. “I’m not letting him do anything.”

“He’ll find more girls. He’ll go after them and hurt them, and you’ll just be sitting here in your comfy office, continuing to do nothing about it.”

“I don’t have enough to win in court!” he argues. “You bring me something -”

“I brought you plenty! Angel Rodriguez was ready to talk.” 

“Until last night!” Jensen shouts back. “Until her parents said she’s off limits.”

Tahmoh freezes, rage tempering a bit to make way for shock. “What?”

“Her parents want to move on. Literally. They’re moving back west so she can finish out school far away from all of this.”

“And what about Sophia Garr?” Tahmoh reminds him. “Or Megan Thompson?”

“All gone,” Ackles says with a snide smile. “Once Angel walked, the rest followed.” He sets his hands clasped together over the Winters file, and Tahmoh can imagine the sound of a door shutting on the case. “So like I said, we have no victims. You bring me someone who will testify and we’ve got something to go with.”

Tahmoh runs a hand over his face as he turns away from Ackles’ demanding stare. The asshole is just daring Tahmoh to continue losing his shit over this, like that makes the whole scenario easier to sweep under the rug. As if it makes the DA justified in continuing to slink away from the fight of a tough trial when they constantly butt heads.

“I know you feel responsible for those girls,” Ackles says, with a surprising tint of warmth. Still, his empathy doesn’t excuse anything. “And I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry,” Tahmoh fires back. He smiles a little at the way Ackles flinches. “And you don’t give as shit about how I feel. But hey, if it’s not going to help your win rate, then why bother fighting for justice, right?”

“ _Detective_ , I think,” he starts with an edge to his voice, but Tahmoh cuts in.

“I think you’re in the wrong line of business, Mr. _DA_ ,” Tahmoh grounds out from his clenched jaw. “If you’re not willing to prosecute anyone, then what are you doing in this office?”

There’s no point to wait for an answer; Tahmoh isn’t up for excuses, so he heads out before Ackles can cobble together an argument. 

 

*****

 

Too many cases sit open in the Special Victims Unit and Tahmoh’s beginning to think they’re losing the battle between good and bad. Especially with the exceptionally bad cases that have sat on ice for years. There are dozens of cases stowed away in boxes and nearing their expiration, and he wonders if he’s got it in him to fight any more. 

He’s rattling on about all of this to the bartender who’s doing nothing more than watch Tahmoh complain about the sad state of the justice system while refilling his glass of whiskey when it’s low.

The corner bar is near empty on this Tuesday night, at this hour. There’s music rumbling from the old jukebox in the back of the place and a couple sits at the end of the bar, too wrapped up in their own conversation to hear Tahmoh get really revved up when digging into Ackles. 

“Why even become a DA if you’re not in it for the fight? Our jobs aren’t easy, either of us, but he just likes to wear his fancy suits, sit behind his fancy desk, in his fancy chair, and pretend he’s doing something more than just pushing papers around.” Tahmoh lets out a bitter laugh. “He’s not even good at acting like he cares.”

“It’s not acting,” comes from behind him and Tahmoh is a little sluggish after this many drinks as he turns to Ackles taking the barstool next to him. “Hey, John,” he smiles at the bartender. 

“Jensen,” the guy nods with a smile, “The usual?”

“Please.” Ackles nods before pointing to Tahmoh’s glass. “And another for him.”

“I don’t need your drink,” Tahmoh complains. 

“I’d have to agree with you, Detective.” 

When Tahmoh sighs loudly, Ackles smirks. 

“It sounds like you’ve had plenty already, but what was it you said? I just don’t give a shit about how you feel?”

Tahmoh leans away to glare at him, resting his arm on the bar to watch the man take his glass and drink without any signs of distress for the fact that they’re mortal enemies in the world of justice. Like there’s no harm in him coming into Tahmoh’s regular bar, sitting in Tahmoh’s space, and challenging Tahmoh with a raised eyebrow and flat, fake smile. 

Like there’s no tension settling around them as they remain completely silent with Ackles watching the TV behind the bar and casually sipping his drink. All while Tahmoh continues to scowl at him.

Ackles drains his glass with a few long, easy drinks then pushes the glass forward. “I’ll take another,” he announces as he leans back in stool. With a quick glance at Tahmoh, he smiles and says, “You haven’t touched your drink.”

“Why are you here?” Tahmoh finally asks.

He scrubs a hand over his head, ruffling up that always perfect side part and Tahmoh does all he can to not think it makes the DA a little bit human. “I don’t know if you heard, I had a pretty shitty day trying to get a case to trial, but it fell apart in the last 24 hours.” He tugs at his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt.

Tahmoh turns away from the sight of the DA rumpled and tired; he’s not about to give the guy a break, no matter how much they drink. 

Ackles goes on, “The guy’s a real dirtbag who should be locked up for a long time.”

“He is,” Tahmoh grumbles as he finally takes the drink Ackles bought him. A long sip warms his insides before there’s a little tremor running through his body when Ackles looks at him, open and assessing. He’ll blame that on the whiskey and the late hour. “But I didn’t think you gave a fuck.”

“I give a lot of fucks,” he insists, though his gaze remains light and patient as he watches Tahmoh. “But if I took Winters to trial now, with as little as we got, then he’d be acquitted and back on the streets.”

“He’s back on the streets now,” Tahmoh complains. 

“If he was acquitted, he’d be absolved of all he’s done to those girls. If we let him go now, before a jury declares him not guilty, then we can build a stronger case and finally nail him to the wall.”

Tahmoh takes a long sip as the words sink in. He glances at Ackles for a moment, doing his best to ignore the playful smile lighting up the DA’s face, because handsome or not, he hates this guy. He stews for a few more moments and stares into his glass as he contemplates draining the rest of his drink and leaving, or staying and granting Ackles a sliver of praise for his plan.

“See?” Ackles says with an aggravatingly smug, and alluring, grin. “I’m not a complete asshole. I know what I’m doing sometimes.”

The way those pink lips curl makes heat pool low in Tahmoh’s gut, so he downs the rest of his drink to let the burn down his throat distract him. 

“You want another?” Ackles doesn’t wait for an answer, just motions to the bartender. “John, the decorated detective will have one more drink.”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, because he doesn’t need another drink. And he surely doesn’t need to spend any more time sitting beside this guy.

Ackles chuckles, rough and low, and Tahmoh’s head spins with a dozen feelings warring together as he considers the DA’s affable nature here juxtaposed with the harsh coldness he holds in his office. Or how Ackles now smirks at him like they’re partnered in some secrecy here in this shadowed bar as they share drinks and continue to sneak glances when the other isn’t looking.

Again, he’ll blame the alcohol for how his mind trails off into darker thoughts of Ackles’ lips curling around something other than his glass, or those eyes looking up at him from another angle. 

 

*****

 

The alcohol is definitely the reason they end up at Tahmoh’s apartment, fumbling into the bedroom as they pull each other’s clothes off. Ackles’ suit jacket, tie, and crisp white button up are scattered in the hallway and Tahmoh’s leather jacket and sweater were lost at some point in the living room. They’re half naked when they fall to the mattress and before Tahmoh knows what’s happening, he gets his wish of seeing Ackles’ lips opening for more than just a drink. 

In quick movements, Ackles pulls at Tahmoh’s belt, pants, and underwear to get his mouth wrapped around the head of Tahmoh’s cock. He sucks at the head and tongues around it, his eyes dark like in the bar when they look up from beneath hooded eyelashes to watch Tahmoh as he works. 

Tahmoh rises to his elbows to take it all in, breathing quick and harsh as he witnesses Ackles’ back arching down, ass in the air, and head bobbing in Tahmoh’s lap. He cries out when Ackles drops even lower to take more of his dick, all warm suction as he blows him, and Tahmoh can’t keep quiet with all the sensations flaring under his skin. He whimpers when Ackles lifts off Tahmoh’s dick and laves at the head, tongue wide and obscene. Then he forces himself to get his wits about him and take over, yanking Ackles up and flipping them over so he hovers over him, his larger body nearly dwarfing Ackles. 

That thought makes Tahmoh’s blood pump faster as he goes dizzy and he tugs at Ackles’ pants and underwear then muscles his way down to open Ackles’ legs. He keeps his gaze as he licks two fingers and reaches down to rub against Ackles’ hole. When Ackles pitches up, back arched off the mattress, and whines, Tahmoh darkly grins and rubs harder to torment him. 

“You gonna do something?” Ackles dares him with a heated look. “Or you just playing around now?”

Tahmoh presses a hand in the center of Ackles’ chest to keep him in place as he goes to the top drawer of his nightstand for lube and condoms. There’s no grace now, impatience driving him with the haze of alcohol, and he pushes a lubed finger into Ackles. The DA’s moans are hypnotic, withered and wanting, begging, as Tahmoh slides in and out, watching how his body takes another finger far before it’s probably ready. 

But Tahmoh doesn’t care, not about being careful or slow, and not about Ackles. Definitely not about him. He only cares that he’s going to get his dick into this hot, tight body and get off, so he pushes his fingers faster. 

He adds more lube and a third finger, and suddenly he cares about the breathy noises filling the air as Ackles continues to moan and rocks down on Tahmoh’s fingers. He looks up to Ackles’s pained face, eyes closed tight and lips dropped open, licked wet and bitten red, and feels a low growl in his chest.

It’s a goddamn portrait of porn and Tahmoh can’t get a condom on and line up fast enough, pushing Ackles’ knees down to the mattress as he slides in and starts up a steady rhythm. They’re quick as they move, Ackles rolling his hips down as Tahmoh fucks him fast and rough, the headboard knocking at the wall in tandem to their panting and moaning. 

There’s banging from the other side of the wall and they both laugh at Tahmoh’s aggravated neighbors, the moment alleviating the roughness in Tahmoh’s movements. He sets his hands to the top of the headboard to keep it from the wall and takes advantage of the added leverage to move faster.

Ackles closes his hands around Tahmoh’s forearms and lifts himself a bit to change the angle and roll his body with Tahmoh’s thrusts, meeting each hit with the fluid sway of his hips. 

Tahmoh stutters at the scene of Ackles’s body taking all it can and giving in return, and a second later, Ackles is overpowering Tahmoh to turn them over. Ackles pushes Tahmoh’s hands into the pillow with one hand then gets Tahmoh’s dick back inside and slides down so he’s fully seated to Tahmoh’s hips. Then he’s the one holding onto the headboard and fucking down on Tahmoh’s cock, hips swinging back and forth and bringing Tahmoh right to the edge of sanity with his orgasm creeping up without warning. 

He yanks on Ackles’ hips, pulling him in tight as they fuck through the last few moments before Tahmoh kicks his head back and lets it all go with a breathy shout. 

As he’s coming down, Ackles fists himself to completion. There’s a hand resting on Tahmoh’s chest and Ackles’ head lulls back to display the tight muscles of his neck tensing up when he comes. 

Tahmoh watches Ackles’s body tremble through it and then easing back with satisfaction. Once Ackles catches his eye, Tahmoh looks away and grumbles about cleaning up. He can still see Ackles lazily smiling as he rises up then drops to his back, the both of them staring up at the ceiling with labored breathing. 

There’s no real drive to move as Tahmoh stretches out in the haze of still being drunk and getting a good fuck. He runs his hand over his chest as his breathing returns to normal before he realizes his fingers are dragging through Ackles’ come. Closing his eyes for a moment, Tahmoh ignores the flare in his belly as his mind replays the vision of Ackles jacking himself off while Tahmoh was still buried inside him. 

Tahmoh shoves those thoughts away and sighs. Mumbles, “This doesn’t change anything.”

Ackles doesn’t move, but there’s a challenge in his voice when he asks, “Like what?”

“I still hate you.”

“You sure about that?”

Tahmoh looks from the corner of his eye, pissed he can still see Ackles’ cocky smirk. 

“Because you sure seemed to love what happened.”

“Just a drunken thing,” Tahmoh mumbles. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay,” Ackles replies easily, as if Tahmoh isn’t being a world class dick about it all. Like he could easily compartmentalize fucking someone he regularly faces without it affecting the job. “I can head out then.”

“No,” he says before thinking through it. Amends, “It’s not a big deal. Leave whenever.”

Tahmoh tries not to think much of it ... Of his curiosity winning out, of wanting to see what it looks like in the morning.

Maybe how Ackles looks in the morning, too. 

 

*****

 

When he’s turned on by the sight of sun coming in through the bedroom windows and highlighting the taut skin of Ackles’ body, then he’ll blame it on the lack of sleep keeping him from thinking clearly. 

And when he closes his mouth around Ackles’ morning wood to bring him out of his own sleep, he’ll blame it on the alcohol still lingering in his body. 

Which is all Ackles’ fault anyway. 

It’s always Ackles’ fault.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Repeat Offense](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153147) by [kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh)




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